


Left to the Wind and Rain

by Papaya_Whip



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Comfort, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29441151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papaya_Whip/pseuds/Papaya_Whip
Summary: ⭐️✨ Galathan belongs to the lovelyawaari! ⭐️✨
Relationships: Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 42





	Left to the Wind and Rain

**Author's Note:**

> ⭐️✨ Galathan belongs to the lovely [awaari](https://awaari.tumblr.com/)! ⭐️✨

The tent does little to mute the heavy sound of rain outside, and less to dull the vicious lightning that spasms across the sky—the Fallow Mire is quickly exceeding all of Galathan’s most unpleasant expectations, and he finds himself daydreaming about the warm hearth in his quarters and the soft, dry bedding back at Skyhold.

His face flushes at the thought of Dorian being there, too, but he forces his attention back to the documents lying scattered on his makeshift desk, because Dorian _isn’t_ back at Skyhold, stretched out on Galathan’s bed with his perfect, bronze skin bare, nor is he sitting in Galathan’s little library, beautiful hands leafing through old history books while he complains animatedly about how dull and inaccurate they are. He also isn’t reclined on the sofa, hazel-grey eyes hidden behind those long, dark eyelashes as he pretends not to nap, and he isn’t standing on the balcony, looking out over the Frostback Mountains with his hips swiveled out, waiting for Galathan to return for the night, either.

He’s imagining how warm Dorian’s mouth might feel pressed against his own when a crash of thunder draws him back to the damp tent, which is decidedly _not_ the comfort of Dorian’s mouth, nor his bedroom at Skyhold _._

No, Dorian is not naked and waiting for him in his quarters at Skyhold because he is here in the forsaken wasteland of the Fallow Mire _with_ Galathan. 

Galathan sighs, then, and rises to his feet. He guesses it’s well past midnight by now, though the thick fog on the water and the dark clouds overhead certainly confuse the time of day. Truthfully, he hasn’t seen much of Dorian since their arrival a week ago—between receiving constant reports from the forward scouts, planning a siege against the Avvar barbarians holding Hargrave Keep, and fending off undead attacks near the Veilfire outposts, Galathan has been rather occupied.

He glares for a moment at the unfinished requisition request he’s been working on, but he can’t muster any real heat to it and opts for pacing the tent instead. He’s restless, so he ducks out after pulling a hood around his shoulders.

It’s still raining hard outside but Galathan feels better once he’s breathing in fresh air. Despite the downpour, he can see that camp is empty save for the four guards posted at the entrance, but they’re chatting quietly to one another and their backs are facing him. He inhales deeply and makes his way toward Dorian’s tent before he can lose his nerve, skin tingling with the anticipation of a stolen moment with his partner.

He’s relieved to find Dorian still awake, though not entirely surprised—Dorian is notorious for staying up late to study, after all—and Galathan watches the dim candlelight flicker from within Dorian’s tent for a moment. 

“Dorian?” he calls, voice quiet. His fingers are just brushing against the canvas at the front of Dorian’s tent when Dorian himself pulls it aside.

“Tsk, tsk, _amatus,_ ” Dorian says, and a wide grin breaks across Galathan’s soft features. “Sneaking out to visit me in the dead of night? How scandalous,” he tuts, though a smile is playing on his lips. They both spare a glance around the silent camp before Dorian pushes a chaste kiss to Galathan’s mouth, and Galathan aches for more—it’s over before Galathan can even close his eyes, and he can tell by the way Dorian lingers that he wants it, too. 

“I was just thinking about you. I mean—I’m really glad to see you,” Galathan says, face pink. 

“And I, you,” Dorian laughs, tugging Galathan into his tent. Galathan lowers his hood, honey-dark hair damp in spite of it, and Dorian brushes his bangs from his eyes. He’s suddenly conscious of his own idle hands, but Dorian seems completely endeared, and watches him with delight in his eyes before pulling him into his chest. Galathan hums, wrapping his arms around him in return, and Dorian kisses the top of his head.

They remain embraced for a long moment before disentangling from one another, and as they do, Galathan notices the mess of books by Dorian’s cot. “Reading late as usual, I see?” he asks, grinning.

“Well, I certainly couldn’t sleep in this dreadful place, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dorian says, and smirks. “I have you to blame for that.”

Galathan laughs and says, “where’s your sense of adventure, _vhenan_? Besides, _you_ insisted on coming with me.”

Dorian heaves a dramatic sigh in response, and Galathan giggles. “That’s true. But had I known your little ‘adventure’ would lead us here, I might not have insisted so ardently,” he teases. “Ah, but listen to me prattle on—to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Lord Inquisitor?” he asks, lips quirking up.

Galathan toys with a loose thread at the hem of his tunic. “I missed you,” he says. “And I… I feel awful for not visiting you sooner, and for dragging you out here in the first place—you must be so miserable, especially in this weather—and I know you asked to come along with me but I shouldn’t have let you. I… I was selfish and I didn’t want to be apart from you for so long,” he finishes, all in a bit of a rush. He can feel the heat of his guilt in his face, and fidgets with the unraveling seam in his hands.

“Oh, _amatus_ ,” Dorian says, no longer teasing. He takes Galathan’s hands into his own to quiet his fretting before moving a hand to his chin and tilting his face towards him. Galathan is reluctant to meet his gaze at first, but the pull of Dorian’s soft, staff-calloused fingers draws his eyes up. “You’ve nothing to apologize for,” he says, and kisses him gently, his mustache tickling at Galathan’s upper lip. He keeps kissing him until the tension in Galathan’s body eases, and Galathan sighs contentedly between each press of Dorian’s lips. When he leans back, it takes a moment for Galathan to open his eyes again.

When he does open his eyes, he admires Dorian’s features as they stand huddled together and strokes at the back of Dorian’s neck. He loves everything about Dorian’s face, but he particularly likes the rise in the bridge of his nose.

“ _Ar lath ma_ ,” he whispers, “ _vhenan_.”

Dorian hums as he kisses him again. “Enlighten me, _amatus_ —have you come simply to tell me how much you adore me? Or,” he trails his hands down Galathan’s back, “was there something else you wanted?”

He’s smirking again and Galathan giggles when his hands squeeze playfully at his ass. “Whatever do you mean?” he asks, doing his best to feign innocence.

“Hm… perhaps you’d like me to lay you down,” he starts, hands still roaming Galathan’s body, “and take off all these horribly wet clothes.” Galathan blushes.

“What else?” he asks bashfully, letting Dorian guide his arms back around his waist.

“Well,” Dorian grins, “you’d be quite cold without any clothes on, _amatus_.” His hands have slipped beneath Galathan’s tunic, now, and his palms are impossibly hot against Galathan’s pale skin. He shivers, pressing closer to Dorian as his fingers circle the notches of his spine. “I’d have to warm you up,” Dorian whispers, lips at Galathan’s ear.

“With magic?” he breathes, blunt fingernails digging at Dorian’s hips through his trousers.

He hums, pretending to think. “No… I think I’d prefer to take you into my mouth,” he says, “and let you come down my throat.” 

“Oh,” Galathan says, face flushing. Dorian pulls his tunic off of him slowly, making sure to drag his knuckles along Galathan’s skin as he does. He watches Dorian’s eyes linger on his bare chest and feels dizzy with arousal.

“Or maybe,” Dorian continues, mouth finding Galathan’s neck, “you’d like me to kneel between these beautiful legs of yours and spread you on my fingers.” Galathan whines in response, throat bobbing, and Dorian nips along his jaw. His fingers move to the front of Galathan’s trousers and begin undoing the laces there.

“Mm, Dorian,” Galathan says, grip tightening on Dorian’s waist. “C-can you take yours off as well?”

He looks up at Dorian as he pulls away from his neck, and Dorian is kind enough to kiss him, sucking Galathan’s bottom lip into his mouth before sliding his tongue in against Galathan’s. He moans very quietly into the heat of Dorian’s mouth, rocking his hips forward.

“Eager to see me naked, _amatus_?” Dorian asks, smirking. Galathan knows his face is pink, but he nods anyway, kissing the corner of Dorian’s infuriating mouth. 

“Very,” Galathan says, kissing him again. Dorian laughs against his mouth and shuffles him backward towards the cot. He lays Galathan down on top of the furs and removes his trousers and smallclothes in one easy slide, freeing his weeping cock and reveling in the sight of him.

“I don’t blame you—I’m quite handsome,” Dorian teases, settling his weight between Galathan’s legs. He presses his mouth to Galathan’s again, teeth skating across his tongue for a long, delicious moment. Galathan is panting when he leans back some time later, lips shiny and kiss-swollen.

“You’re still dressed,” Galathan laments dazedly, arching a bit to grind the wet tip of his cock against the hard line in Dorian’s trousers. Dorian groans softly, huffing another laugh.

“Insatiable little beast,” he says lovingly, and draws back on his knees to disrobe. Galathan watches him intently, his own knees feeling rather wobbly once Dorian is finally naked, too. Even his best daydreams could never compare to Dorian in the flesh.

“You’re beautiful,” Galathan murmurs, reaching for him. Dorian’s face burns at the earnestness in Galathan’s voice, but he doesn’t try to hide his rare display of modesty. Instead, he allows Galathan to pull him close, to see him fully, and eagerly returns the kisses Galathan lays across his cheeks, nose, and forehead. His slender fingers weave into Dorian’s hair just as Dorian wraps a hand around both of their cocks and thrusts, sending Galathan into a stream of breathy moans.

Dorian goes back to sucking at Galathan’s neck for a time, keeping a loose hold on them and rutting lazily against Galathan as they harden fully. His breath is searing on his skin and Galathan clings to him, murmuring just coherently enough for Dorian to understand how good he feels to be with him—to be held by him. 

Dorian moans Galathan’s name in response, his own face warming pleasantly again. “Perhaps,” he says after, trailing his mustache along Galathan’s chest to make him giggle, “it’s not my fingers or my mouth that you want, then.”

“Mm?” Galathan asks, running his fingers along the nape of Dorian’s neck. He moans quietly as Dorian thrusts against him, cock leaking liberally now. He hums again and says, “what might I want— _ah—_ instead?”

“I think you’d like my cock, _amatus_ ,” he replies, and Galathan reddens in surprise. Oh, to hear such a crass word on Dorian’s lovely, proper tongue! His hips jerk and Dorian continues, “yes, I think you’d like to take my cock—that you’d like me to fill you with my spend and make an absolute mess of you.” His voice is pitched so low that Galathan can feel it vibrate against his own ribs, and he gasps, nodding fervently before Dorian can even finish.

“Yes, Dorian, _yes—_ please,” Galathan says, canting his hips upward as Dorian’s hand slides from his cock to his hole. The pads of his fingers press tantalizingly against his fluttering rim, but they don't push in like he wants them to, and Galathan whines.

“Oil first, darling,” Dorian says, the telltale lilt of teasing back in his voice. Galathan groans a bit but allows Dorian to escape the vice of his thighs, and he rifles through a satchel near the foot of the bed for the little glass vial.

He watches Dorian coat his fingers generously before sloppily letting some run over Galathan’s hole, and he shivers at the feeling of it. He can feel Dorian’s eyes hungering for him.

“H-hurry, _vhenan_ , please,” he says, spreading his legs a bit wider to urge Dorian closer. Dorian smirks despite the eager throb of his own cock, and he dips down to kiss at Galathan’s naval before slowly pushing in a finger. Galathan sighs, content, and rocks his hips against Dorian’s hand. “ _Yes_ ,” he whispers, and bites at his lip until Dorian is kissing him again, his finger moving faster inside Galathan’s fevered hole. 

“Maker, _amatus,_ you’re perfect,” Dorian murmurs. Galathan arches at the praise, tugging Dorian’s mouth back to his own. Dorian is working in a second and third finger before Galathan releases him, breathing hard.

The storm outside is unrelenting, and the swell of rain against the tent muffles the sound of Galathan’s moans.

“Dorian—”

“May I, darling?” he asks, palm meeting Galathan’s perineum in a satisfying slap of skin. Galathan is trying desperately not to dig his nails into Dorian’s scalp, but he moans his name again and gives a quick nod between breaths. “So good for me, _amatus_ ,” Dorian coos, sighing gratefully when Galathan takes his flushed cock into his hand. He’s dark and heavy in Galathan’s delicate hold, salt gathering steadily at the tip of him.

“ _Oh—_ Dorian!” Galathan gasps as his fingers drive hard at the patch of velvet nerves inside him. He moans, louder still, and Dorian kisses the decorated flat of his chin.

“Mm,” he hums, and then, “would the Inquisitor like to get on his knees?”

“Yes,” Galathan breathes back, eyes half-open yet with anticipation. He squirms elatedly when Dorian withdraws his fingers, knowing the loss of them is also the promise of Dorian’s cock. He helps Galathan turn over, leading his forearms to rest against the blankets that smell overwhelmingly of Dorian and his hips to rise perfectly for him further down.

Dorian lets his hands wander the freckled expanse of Galathan’s body for a brief moment, his palms finding his shoulders and his ribs, and every touch is enough to send shivers across Galathan’s skin. Strong hands caress his ass and the backs of his thighs before settling on the perfect jut of his hips.

“I adore you, _amatus_ ,” Dorian says. Galathan melts as Dorian presses close, kissing the nape of Galathan’s neck and spreading him gently with his thumbs. He guides the tip of his slicked cock to Galathan’s hole and moans at the glorious warmth of him as he slowly pushes inside. Galathan lets out a low groan, spine curving to take Dorian deeper, and they both gasp when their bodies meet. He exhales shakily and says, “ _kaffas_ , Galathan, you feel— _fasta vass_.”

Galathan tries to catch his breath, blushing hard enough that his shoulders turn pink. Dorian has gone still behind him, kissing a blur of praises to Galathan’s skin as he unabashedly relishes in the feeling of him—white-hot and tight around his cock, yet soft and silken, too, the pulsing clench of him driving Dorian absolutely mad. He moans into the side of Galathan’s jaw and begins rolling his hips shallowly, bronze skin tingling wherever it’s pressed against his lover. 

There’s a flash from outside the tent as lightning splits the sky, and Dorian wraps his arms underneath Galathan’s chest, teasing the peaks of his nipples along the way. Galathan keens and grinds his hips against Dorian until he draws back, cock pulling all the way out before sliding in again, his pace torturously, lovingly slow. He does it again and again, basking openly at the sweet familiarity of Galathan’s hole, and the drag of Dorian’s swollen cock stroking so deeply inside of him has Galathan panting.

“Please, Dorian… mm,” Galathan says, thighs shaking.

“Do I feel good inside you?” Dorian teases, though his voice shakes. His hands run firmly up to the elf’s shoulders as he thrusts into him, and drag back down as he pulls out again. Galathan can only moan in response, head bowing down and mouth hanging open as Dorian fucks him. “Forgive me, _amatus_ ,” he says, “but you completely ruin me.” He laces their fingers together and Galathan twists to look at him with a sly smile.

“Only in a good way, I hope?”

“The best way,” Dorian replies, and kisses the cuff of his ear, his cheek, his jaw. His shoulder and neck. There’s something tender in the way Dorian works him at such an agonizing pace, in the way he lets Galathan feel the satisfying burn of Dorian stretching him steadily; each time the weeping head of his cock drives deeper into him, they moan in unison. 

Galathan hums as Dorian tends to him, lips pressing to every part of him he can reach, until he finally gives into the molten fervor buzzing between them. He pulls out again and thrusts, fast and precise, and Galathan squeezes at Dorian’s hands.

“Oh! Dorian, _Dorian,_ yes—” he babbles, clinging to him.

“Galathan,” Dorian moans back. He ruts into him earnestly now, the thickness of his cock enough to make Galathan’s breath catch, and Galathan turns pink again as the sound of skin meeting skin permeates the tent. Dorian’s hips grind into him and Galathan arches for it, his own cock hanging heavy and stiff between his legs. 

Soon, Galathan unravels into a quiet ensemble of Elven prayers and curses, punctuated only by either Dorian’s name or a loud “ _ah!_ ” when Dorian thrusts at the right angle, white bliss erupting behind Galathan’s eyelids each time. Dorian is pressed so close to him that he shudders with the affection of it, and his hole pulses tighter on Dorian’s cock. Dorian breathes hard and hot against his neck, kissing praises to his ear between each moan.

“You’re— _mm_ —too much, Galathan,” Dorian pants, hips slapping into him, “I won’t last much longer like this, _amatus_.”

“I— _ah_ —I’m so close, Dorian, _yes_ ,” he manages, the pleasure consuming him. “Can you— _fenedhis—_ t-touch me, please, _Dorian,_ l-let me come,” Galathan begs, pushing back to get Dorian to fuck him harder, deeper.

Dorian’s left arm tightens around Galathan as the other drags down his ribs, hand skimming across Galathan’s stomach before his fingers reach for his cock. He gasps at the touch, moaning loudly when Dorian squeezes him.

“Here?” he teases, breathless. Galathan can feel the slide of him grow smoother and wetter as Dorian nears his release.

“Y-yes,” Galathan says, and moans again as Dorian strokes him in time with his thrusts, grip gentle but firm. He mouths at Galathan’s neck, encouraging him with a swipe of his thumb against the swollen head of his cock.

Dorian’s hips work faster as Galathan clenches down on him hard and comes in his hand, sobbing Dorian’s name.

“So good, Galathan, that’s it. Come for me,” Dorian murmurs, voice thick with want. He rocks Galathan through his orgasm, holding him close when his thighs start to tremble. Galathan pants beneath him, skin fevered and flushed, the friction of Dorian’s hand on him and the press of his still-hard cock against the throb of his hole simultaneously too much and not enough. But Dorian is moaning and going tense behind him, and Galathan can think of nothing but him.

“Dorian, i-inside me, please,” he says, deliriously sated.

“Oh _, amatus_ ,” Dorian breathes. Instead of thrusting in, though, he’s pulling out and turning Galathan onto his back, pushing his knees up and apart for him to settle between them. Galathan keens in surprise, gasping as Dorian slowly feeds his cock back into Galathan’s hot, wet hole. “Want to see you,” he murmurs, hips hitting flush against Galathan’s ass.

“ _Dorian_ —” he says, face pink when he meets Dorian’s gaze. His rhythm falters and his lips part in a low moan, cock twitching deep inside Galathan as he chases his own orgasm. Galathan reaches for him, fingers caressing the nape of Dorian’s neck while Dorian ruts into him harder. 

He watches Dorian furrow his brow, his hands kneading bruises into the backs of Galathan’s thighs and his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and he’s so beautiful like this that Galathan can hardly breathe—and then he’s coming, hot and thick inside Galathan, a lovely shout of his name escaping Dorian’s throat. 

“ _Fasta vass_ ,” he gasps, thrusting in short, frantic bursts as he comes. Galathan moans, too, toes curling in bliss when Dorian embraces him. He blushes at the messy sound of Dorian’s spend inside him, his softening cock still working his used hole. His hips stutter to a stop some time later, driving as deep as he can with the last of his release and leaving them both panting. Galathan pulls Dorian to him, kissing his cheeks and eyelids before finding his mouth.

“Mm,” Galathan murmurs against his lips, fingers running through Dorian’s hair as he lies on top of him.

“You should sneak into my tent more often, _amatus_ ,” Dorian says. He’s grinning, still bleary from his orgasm, and Galathan kisses him again.

“Mm… you invited me in, if you remember.”

“Yes, but _you_ sought _me_ out. And with the specific intention of luring me to bed, I might add. Tsk tsk.”

Galathan giggles at that. “Well,” he starts, “when you make filthy promises like that, it’d be wrong not to let you keep them.” Dorian laughs, too, and Galathan smiles shyly at him. His hands move from Dorian’s hair to his ears and face, tracing the curve of his nose and the pitch of his lips with the pads of his fingers. He smoothes Dorian’s mustache back into place, twisting at it playfully, and Dorian kisses his thumbs, humming contentedly. 

Galathan is so in love, it hurts.

“ _Amatus_? Are you all right?” Dorian asks, gray eyes suddenly focused on him.

Galathan nods, hastily blinking back tears. “I’m sorry, I—I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t visit you sooner,” he says. 

“Oh, Gal—”

“I love you, Dorian. So much,” he rushes out, cutting him off. He’s embarrassed before the words have even left him, and he offers Dorian a small smile to cover it up, fingers shaky on his cheeks.

Dorian watches him for a moment, worry creasing in his features. He crowds closer to him, then, and kisses him, sucking gently at Galathan’s bottom lip before sliding his tongue into his mouth. Galathan sighs, relieved, and lets Dorian kiss him into a stupor, all soft lips and warm tongues and tender grazes of teeth. He’s grateful for Dorian’s weight on him, keeping him grounded, and he wraps his arms around Dorian’s shoulders.

When Dorian pulls away afterward, he says, “surely you know I love you as well, _amatus_.”

Galathan bites his lip and nods again, not trusting his voice. They lie in silence for a minute, listening to the thrum of rain against the tent. It certainly isn’t the first time they’ve said those words to each other, and they both know it won’t be the last, but it’s still enough to make their faces feel warm. 

Galathan closes his eyes, hands smoothing over the muscles in Dorian’s arms, and Dorian shifts against him to kiss at his neck. His lips are soft and barely-there, but Galathan hums delightedly at the attention, fingertips tracing incoherent patterns on Dorian’s skin as his kisses trail down to his chest.

“Will you stay?” Dorian is asking, and Galathan has to concentrate to keep from falling asleep.

“Mm? Oh,” he says. He blushes and replies, “I’d like to, if you’d like me to.”

“I’d be delighted to have you, _amatus_.” He’s grinning as he says it, clearly pleased, and Galathan brightens at the sight. 

“Delighted to be had,” he murmurs back, eyelids heavy. Dorian breathes a laugh, lips at his sternum.

“Then shall I clean you up? Or,” he asks, snaking his body back up Galathan’s, “should I put you to bed still full of my spend?”

He smirks at the way Galathan gasps, candid in how he loves to fluster him with a few choice, vulgar words.

“I—um,” Galathan stammers, face burning as Dorian rolls his hips shallowly, finally letting his soft cock slip from Galathan’s hole. It isn’t long before Dorian’s come begins to leak from him, and Galathan slaps a hand over his mouth. He moans loudly in spite of himself, his own cock twitching with interest. “ _Dorian!_ ” he whimpers, knees wobbling on either side of him.

“You’re too much, _amatus_ , Maker,” Dorian curses, running the flat of his tongue over Galathan’s nipple. Galathan arches into his mouth, feeling lightheaded as all his blood rushes back into his cock.

“Dorian, Dorian, _ah_ —” Galathan is saying, breathless already and hardly recovered from his first orgasm. Dorian’s fingers have found his hole again, and he pushes two inside as he sucks on his chest.

“So good,” he murmurs, thrusting his fingers fast and hard as Galathan bucks his hips. Dorian lets him grind his filling erection against his stomach in favor of kissing at his other nipple, humming when it hardens on his tongue. 

Galathan whines as Dorian hooks his fingers inside him, the glide of his spend making him shiver. It spills from him freely as Dorian fingers him, and Galathan’s cock is thick and flushed where it’s pressed against Dorian’s bronze skin. His rutting falters when Dorian spreads him on a third finger, his own fingers biting into Dorian’s back.

“Oh, w-wait, _Dorian,_ I can’t—”

“Stop?” Dorian asks quickly, pulling his mouth away and stalling his wrist. Galathan trembles visibly, but he’s moaning and shaking his head.

“N-no, I just, I—” he says, panting for a moment while Dorian waits patiently for a reply. “I was—I couldn’t breathe,” he finishes, blushing furiously.

Dorian exhales, relieved, and smiles comfortingly at him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry, _amatus_ ,” he murmurs, kissing his cheek next. “Do you want to keep going?” he asks, placing another kiss on his chin.

“Yes,” Galathan says, and then, “please.”

“Are you sure?”

Galathan nods, heart racing at the tenderness in Dorian’s tone. “I want it, want _you_ ,” he whispers, and Dorian grins.

“Then you’ll have me, _amatus,_ ” he says, capturing his mouth as he gradually eases his fingers out and back in. Galathan sighs against him, relaxing until Dorian withdraws his hand entirely and his spend spills from him, thick enough for Galathan to feel as it does; it leaks from his puffy rim to the furs on Dorian’s cot and Galathan blushes dazedly at the way Dorian looks at him. He gives a high-pitched whine as Dorian leans back, moaning Galathan’s name from the sight of him alone, and he eagerly returns to fingering him, the undeniable squelch of it making Galathan burn.

“Feels— _ah—_ good, Dorian, _oh_ —” Galathan breathes, spreading his legs wider for Dorian to watch. His head tilts back into the blankets and Dorian’s gaze goes dark with want, eyes tracking the shiver that runs through Galathan’s body.

“Are you going to come on my fingers, _amatus_?” Dorian asks, voice low, smirking as Galathan’s hole tightens in response. The palm of his hand meets the elf’s soft skin with a nice slap as he drives his fingers in, over and over, until Galathan is moaning incoherently again. Dorian bites Galathan’s bottom lip gently, kissing him afterward. 

“Mm—c-close,” Galathan says, grip tightening on Dorian’s arms. He’s shaking fully now, cock aching and overstimulated despite being untouched. 

Dorian nips at his jaw and asks, “would you like to finish down my throat like I promised, darling?” 

“ _Oh_ —yes, _vhenan_ , please,” Galathan manages, tears collecting in the far corners of his eyes at the pleasure of Dorian’s fingers working against his sore hole.

“That’s good, Galathan, you’re doing so well,” Dorian murmurs. He moves down Galathan’s body, kissing his hip bones and inner thighs as he continues to finger him, still praising him between each press of his mouth on his skin. He reaches up and guides Galathan’s hand to his hair, humming with approval when Galathan weaves his fingers tightly through it. His kisses delicately at the shaft before taking the tip of Galathan’s cock into his mouth, and Galathan flinches with the overwhelming heat of it. 

“ _Dorian!_ ” he says, pulling at his hair. Dorian moans against him, sending shockwaves through Galathan’s pelvis to his spine, and takes him deeper into his mouth, tongue working the underside of his cock as he hollows his cheeks. “Dorian, f-fuck—” Galathan gasps, arching toward him as his cock hits the back of Dorian’s throat.

Dorian pulls off of him, lips swollen and wet, and Galathan whines. “Oh, _amatus_ ,” he teases, voice delightfully rough, “what might the others think if they heard you? The holy Herald of Andraste, the blessed Lord Inquisitor— _kaffas_ —shouting profanities and opening his legs for the evil Tevinter magister? My, how the rumors would spread.”

Galathan is breathing hard, but he giggles. “They wouldn’t exactly be ‘rumors,’ though, w-would they?”

Dorian laughs, too, and says, “no, I don’t suppose they would. Thank the Maker.” 

He kisses his thigh before returning to Galathan’s cock, and he’s so talented with his mouth that Galathan aches for it, pulling at his hair and moaning his name again as he feels his hole spasm and clench down hard on Dorian’s fingers. His cock ruts into the back of Dorian’s throat once more and he comes, and Dorian swallowing around him is so blissful that he cries, whole body shaking until he feels completely boneless.

“Oh—” he sobs, clinging to Dorian as he lets him grow soft in the warmth of his mouth. He whimpers when Dorian pulls out his fingers and eases off of him, but then he’s kissing at his neck and face to comfort him and Galathan sighs, content.

“You’re magnificent,” Dorian whispers, finding his lips. Galathan blushes and kisses back as best he can with what little energy he has left, shifting his weight so Dorian can lie on top of him. With him pressed so close, though, he can feel the hard line of Dorian’s cock against the plane of his stomach.

“Dorian, you’re still—” he starts, but Dorian quiets him with another kiss.

“Just let me look at you, _amatus_ ,” he says gently, leaning back just enough to meet Galathan’s half-lidded gaze. Galathan hums, admiring Dorian’s face as he grips himself and starts stroking. He pets slowly at Dorian’s mussed hair with one hand and reaches down his body with the other, slipping his fingers alongside Dorian’s around his cock. Dorian groans, eyes trained on Galathan’s, and Galathan rubs tenderly at the tip of him, smearing the salt gathered there.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ ,” Galathan murmurs. Dorian pants quietly back at him, face warm and hips thrusting eagerly into the tight ring of his fingers. He swipes his thumb along Dorian’s crown and feels Dorian begin to tremble. “So beautiful,” he adds reverently, and Dorian moans.

“Galathan—” he gasps suddenly, jaw falling open as he comes. Galathan lets him guide his hand faster over his cock, encouraging him as his spend collects in waves on Galathan’s skin. He’s still rocking into their hands a long moment later, Galathan’s name falling from his lips once more, and then again. He blushes at that, leaning up to press their mouths together sweetly as Dorian finally drifts down from his orgasm.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says between kisses, and Galathan breathes a laugh.

“Funny—I was going to say the same thing about you,” he says, and Dorian grins sleepily at him.

“Maker, could I adore you more?” Dorian asks. “Probably not,” he says after, nuzzling into Galathan’s neck. Galathan turns pink again and wraps his arms around Dorian’s shoulders, humming quietly at the familiar tickle of his mustache. His fingers swirl around the ridges of Dorian’s spine, eyelids getting heavier with each passing minute. He can feel Dorian starting to doze when the rise and fall of his back slows beneath his palms.

The humidity in the tent is subsiding and Galathan closes his eyes to the persistent sound of rain, the warm weight of Dorian against him, and the dying glow of candlelight. 

“Mm… Dorian?” Galathan murmurs, and Dorian hums back. “Let me wash up,” he says quietly, guiding Dorian’s shoulders to lie against the clean furs beside them.

“No, I’ll do it,” Dorian says, voice thick with sleep. Galathan smiles a bit at him, wanting to protest, but watches him as he lifts off the cot and shuffles over to his trunk. He returns with a damp cloth and a fresh bedroll, and Galathan helps him remake the cot before lying back down, whispering bits of incandescent Elven gratitude to Dorian as he towels first at his stomach, and then gently between his legs. He’s pressing sleep-warm kisses to Galathan’s shoulder as he does, and Galathan curls into him, his back to Dorian’s front.

“Can I sneak into your tent again tomorrow, _vhenan_?” he asks as Dorian wraps an arm around him. He laughs, nipping at the back of his neck.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” he replies, and Galathan giggles.

“I’ll try to make the rain stop, too. And clear up all the muck.”

“Could you just? That would be divine,” Dorian teases, grinning behind him. Galathan hums, content, and closes his eyes.

“Anything for you, Dorian.”


End file.
